Anonymous Embrace
by eye of the divine
Summary: A selection of short fictions kept anonymous, decide for yourselves which clan is for which chapter. Critiques welcome. CHAPTER 3 updated
1. Chapter 1

_There twenty seven white tiles, the twenty eighth was black._

That thought always impressed itself upon her when she walked through the brightly lit underpass to work. To begin with she had been fearful of walking through the outskirts of the city during the night, but like many things repetition made the process easier. Each evening she would walk along, her headphones jammed down her ears playing music to distract her from ugly thoughts and preminitions that only a fearful mind could conjure.

Every night it was the same. Every night she walked past the same homeless man. She would not give him money, she didn't wish to be responsible for feeding a nasty drug habit. With time compassion warmed the heart, as she walked past she would stop long before to buy two coffees. One for her, one for him. She hoped he liked the warm drink, leaving sugar satches, small pots of evaporated milk and a muffin for him.

The first time he did not look at her when she placed the bag in front of him. She paused uncertainly for a moment before continuing to work her night shift. As she continued to walk her headphones remained dangling at her chest, she heard the rustle of the paper bag and could no longer repress the smile pulling at her lips as she pressed her own coffee cup to her lips.

Over time the two settled into a routine. Once or twice she brought him coats and shoes, failing that warm food. He would now speak to her, no longer fearful of mocking rebuke.

"Thanks, pretty lady." His voice was rough from years of neglect. She could see pale blue eyes gaze up at her from under an unruly mop of greasy strands of dark hair.

"Have a good night." She would always reply with a smile. Every time he would walk with her to the end of the underpass, his tall skinny frame towered over her but she no longer feared.

That night begun like any other, she rose, showered and got ready for work without thinking

something would go amis. Her bus was caught precisely on time, and carried her forth towards the mini metropolis. She stopped at the same coffee shop not five minutes detour from her intended route to pick up the order that now always was ready to go as the small bell announced her arrival.

None of the staff asked her any more for whom the other drink was for; though from time to time they would speculate as they closed up for the night. Once or twice they asked, but really they didn't believe the honest answer.

When she arrived at his usual place of residence he was nowhere to be found. It was as though he had vanished from existence.

The loud voices echoed down the tiled corridor, reverberating off the cold tiles and coming closer by the second. She couldn't tell how many there were but the words they shouted were not plesent ones.

Pulling her coat tighter around herself after discarding the cups allowing warm liquid to spill to the floor with a slight hiss. She stepped to the side, hoping against hope that she would go unnoticed. When they rounded the corridor she counted three, each heavily intoxicated but that was little surprise, it was a Friday night afterall.

Her pace hastened, hoping to pass them quickly but it did her little good. The largest grabbed her arm, swinging her forcefully into the wall next to her, she heard her head as it cracked against the tile but could only muster a whimper of protest.

"Your phone." His barked words were slurred and the scent of spirits assaulted her nose as his body invaded her personal space.

"N no." She stammered, defiantly. She had worked hard for her luxury and she would not have it taken in submission.

"Give me your fucking phone!" The woman fliched as his fist collided with the wall next to her ear. She knew it was most likely her last warning but ignored it anyway.

"Get your own phone." Her voice was meek, she could not meet his eye, her gaze was

downcast to the symetrical flooring but there was no pretty black tiles there to distract her muddled mind.

Flinching did not protect her from what came next. The sharp pain shot between her ribs, metal grated against bone, piercing through muscle and membranes without distinction. Her breath came in a short gasp, warm blood flowed unnoticed as her legs gave out beneath her dragging her weight down to the ground with a dull thud.

The phone was still clasped in her fingers, clinging to it as though it may save her. The words above her were muphled, as though they were so far away. The sounds of their running feet reverberated off the floor echoing into her fading consciousness.

When they were gone she curled into a ball, she couldn't bring herself to pull out the instrument of her torture. All she could do was wheeze out a breath and shiver as the cold set into her skin like ice.

After what felt like a lifetime of cold and silent tears punctuated with wheezing whimpers she felt warmth on the back of her head, someone turned her onto her back but she couldn't open her eyes. Hot fingertips burned through icy pours only heating her for an instant before it crept back to frigidity.

"Brave pretty lady." His voice almost calmed her, relief for some reason was all she could feel. "Want to live forever?" The question confused her already addled mind.

"I don't want to die." The words tumbled out with more crimson, she coughed as she began to drown.

"Dying isn't so bad." His thumb caressed at her chin, wiping away the viscous fluid, but she didn't see him sucking it off his extremity. "All this trouble for a phone, I wonder what you'll do for the things you really want to fight for."

She couldn't fixate on his words any longer, only the heat that seemed to envelop her as he pulled her closer in his arms. The sharp sting at her neck almost went unnoticed a small tensing of muscles in protest before the sudden wave of euphoria. Long moments dragged by in heartbeats, but it didn't matter, she was safe, he would save her; she knew he would. There was no panic, no fear; just the gentle tugging that pulled at her heart until finally it stopped.

One last gasped breath and then the muted rattle as the last of the air escaped her lungs. She was just as perfect as when she came into the world, and just as anonymous.


	2. Chapter 2

The darkness was all I could see, the cold trickle of water as it rapped rhythmically against the stone. My mind was groggy, fogged by pain; I was glad I could not see.

With nothing to occupy my mind I tried to recall what had happened to me. Before I could do anything the pain became too much; I passed out.

My dreams became nightmares, all I could hear was a voice. He called out my name, my brother's, mother's and father's. I screamed and raged, throwing the furniture in my small apartment, daring them to show themselves; but no one came. I was so angry, no one here knew my real name, but he did...how did he know my name?

I puzzled over this for hours until I woke once more. The pain had worsened as I slept, all I could do was groan and grit my teeth or chew on my cheek hoping for distraction.

Sometimes I was certain I heard movement, the sound of silence and the distinct unease crept into my bones as my skin crawled and itched; it felt as though I was being watched all over again. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing my pain, instead I clawed at my arms, chewed my cheek and curled into a ball in the hopes of avoiding their attention.

It didn't work.

After a time they became bolder, allowing me to hear their movements, but at that point I didn't care, I couldn't hold back the screaming as my torture intensified. It felt as though my bones were changing shape and my insides were reorganising themselves into a more interesting order; maybe it was internal feng shui or some shit.

I had no idea of the passage of time, it dragged second by agonising second, only punctuated by brief stints of blissful oblivion; which were far to short for my liking. It didn't take my keeper long to note the damage I had inflicted upon myself, he grumbled a mild chastisement which went half acknowledged.

Sometimes he (or at least at the time I thought it was a he with no confirmation) would give me something to drink, the first time I spat it out it was so bitter. He swore vehemently and forced me to drink, it was so cold it felt like ice until it hit my stomach. Eventually I learnt to take what he gave, the stuff seemed to dull the pain, even if it was by a small increment.

Everytime he came close enough I would grab at him, squeezing his limb tightly to my chest. At first I could hear him snarl, his hand choked me, like I was some kind of threat, then all of a sudden he'd remember I was something more akin to a kitten than a real threat. It was then, and only then he'd let go. Sometimes I could feel his fingers loosening some of the braids in my hair. The small act of kindness was the closest thing to affection I had in the blackness.

Time had no meaning, it stretched on mocking my existence, I just wanted to die and get it over with; I was never one for sport like this. End it, and end it quick had always been my mantra. The itching only got worse the longer he dragged out my torment, my veins felt like they were on fire and my chest felt like I had someone sitting on it.

I couldn't hold back my tears anymore, curled up on the cold hard floor; I cried. I didn't even care about the sticky substance that seemed to surround me; I knew it was my blood, I had clawed at my arms so much I knew I had punctured large blood vessels, but I didn't know why I hadn't died.

When he came back I didn't even have the energy to hide the fact I was crying. I writhed on the ground, my skin tore in places every time I shivered or moved. The sound seemed to echo in the large empty space. He came closer, closer than usual. A thumb wiped away the tear soaked grime off my cheek; he smelt like damp and vinegar.

The fact he moved me made no difference to the agony, sometimes I could hear crunching and clicks which hurt more than anything else and knew it was coming from my body. He rested my head against his emaciated leg, offering his arm to me again. To my shame I took it eagerly, needing something, anything to ease the pain. I drank deeply, not caring or questioning why he was feeding me blood or even why it was helping so damn much. He held me like that until he had to pry my mouth off his arm, I bit down hoping to keep it there, he didn't even flinch as he tore the limb away. There was no resentment, he didn't punish me for what I did; almost like he understood what I was experiencing.

At some point my hair had fallen out, he still smoothed his fingertips along the skin there as though he was saying it would be over soon. I almost wanted to believe him as I bit down on what was left of my cheek.

Something was off though, he didn't normally stay this long and certainly never offered me comfort like this. My pain addled mind racked over the possibilities of what was going to happen next and each possibility was more frightening than the last. I turned over, curling myself closer to him pressing myself into his clothes and yet again passed out.

There was no waking of my own volition this time, I awoke because of the change, it seemed it had finished with my body and had now started on my head. The bone plates that made up the back of my skull grated together, slowly changing shape as my body introduced me to a new level of pain. I had never experienced anything quite like it, each neuron seemed to be on overdrive to ensure I felt ever last moment of this hell. Strangely he hadn't moved away, normally he left while I slept. I sucked slightly to get a grip in on my cheek so I could chew on it more only to find there was nothing left because I had chewed through it in my sleep.

I couldn't breathe, I kept forgetting as I felt my heart hammering in my chest slowly give in. The beat faltered, loosing the comforting rhythem that had been there my whole life. If I wasn't so stubborn I may have prayed but as it happens I can't stand the hypocrisy of it all.

In my final moments I thought of my twin brother, I wondered if he was happy with his lot in life, if he enjoyed being a priest and imposing his rightious damnation on those that did not comply. I wondered if my mother and father would mourn, but knew that was also unlikely; as always I was alone, my family ties long ago cut.

It was a sudden stop, the staccato of arythmia abruptly ceasing to be as my last gasping breath was choked out of me. I didn't loose conciousness, I held my breath waiting for a beat that never came, but also never seemed to need to take another breath.

I lay there like that until he shook me, I groaned, still sore and swatted my arm in his general direction. For whatever reason he seemed pacified allowing me to once again fall into a nice deep sleep curled next to him, my head still resting on his leg.


	3. Chapter 3

A special thank you to StarGazers for the proof reading :)

* * *

"Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad."

_Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One._

The skin is such an interesting organ, most go their whole lives not paying it much attention. Two square meters of flesh, pores, and nerve endings to protect and feel with. Two square meters of unimaginable pleasure or brutal pain; not to mention all the infinite sensations between.

The knife was keen, it wasn't the cut that hurt. It was the peeling away from the subcutaneous fat that truly introduced her to the meaning of pain.

She screamed before continuing the prayer.

"Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed."

_Blessed be the Name of His glorious kingdom for ever and ever._

Her voice barely came out as a whisper; she had been screaming for days now. He hadn't relented in his punishments; no that would have been far too easy. He kept coming back each and every night just to make her suffer some more.

"V'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha b'khol l'vav'kha uv'khol naf'sh'kha uv'khol m'odekha."

_And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might._

As had been the routine each night her eldest brother stepped through the door. His footsteps echoed upon the cold damp flagstones that made up the decrepit wine cellar.

The other two siblings couldn't watch any more. Neither had the strongest of constitutions, not for this kind of sport at least.

"Do you not think she has been punished enough?" His voice held no emotion; she knew the truth.

"If I had I would have stopped." He pushed at the undamaged section of her back, forcing the shards of glass to grind deeper into her knees.

"V'hayu had'varim ha'eileh asher anokhi m'tzav'kha hayom al l'vavekha."

_And these words that I command you today shall be in your heart._

He stepped around her to look down at her kneeling form, then crouched to observe her face. There was a pause before his hand made contact with her cheek; in the silence the sound of his blow reverberated through the room.

Sharp blue eyes looked up at him, finally acknowledging his presence after four days of nothing. Without warning she spat the blood that had built up in her mouth on his face before pressing on.

"V'shinan'tam l'vanekha v'dibar'ta bam."

_And you shall teach them diligently to your children, and you shall speak of them._

The slap he had gifted her already began to make her face swell, bruising would no doubt be close behind. He was a stubborn master, but she worse.

Without pause he removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed the bodily fluid away. He wasn't certain why he had dragged out this game for so long, this ghoul amused him for her sheer will alone.

"Have you even bothered to give her food since she's been here?" The eldest knew very well the other ghouls wouldn't without his expressed order to do so.

"She's had some sustenance." The amusement in their master's tone was not lost on either siblings.

"So you fed her yourself then." He pursed his lips in mild displeasure. He knew it was a simple fact of being a ghoul, but he still loathed the idea of his youngest sister being reduced to something akin to an opium addict.

"Of course." As he spoke the smoothed away the crimson coated strands from her face but was disappointed when his victim refused to react. She remained with her head bowed, fixating on the crack on one of the large flagstones close to her knees.

He sat in front of her, ignoring a few stray shards that sunk through the refined clothes he wore. He moved the long braid aside ensuring her face was unobstructed but careful to not ruin the art he had created on her back. Idly he brushed the end of the half knotted braid against her neck.

"I have made you into an angel little one, you have no thanks for your master's benevolence?" He was toying with her now; it only increased her ire.

"Benevolence would have been if you never rose back from your grave." It didn't matter how quietly she spoke, she knew he could hear her perfectly in the murky silence that encapsulated this place.

"Such bitterness is not becoming of a lady," The chastisement was unusually mild, she had expected more pain.

"You robbed me of that title years ago."

"Did I?"

She wished to claw his face off, she would enjoy that before he killed her.

"Don't play coy!" She spat her words with venom that seeped from her heart. She couldn't even dress as a lady, her corset always had to be tied loosely, so there wasn't even the nice comfort of delusion to keep her warm when she was all alone.

"I'm not being coy, I thought I was being quite blunt actually."

Before she could retort any further her brother cut in once more, "This is a pointless exercise, she will not bend to your will she never has."

As he spoke his Sire rose from the floor. He was a vulture circling his sister once again, inspecting her quite pensively. After a moment he tugged at the loose flesh he had half cleaved from her back.

She screamed, tears stung her eyes threatening to spill. Her fingers curled sharply into her palms, blunt nails cut into the soft pads of skin hoping to distract herself; it didn't work, it never worked. She fell back to old habits and continued her prayer in a hushed whimper.

"b'shiv't'kha b'veitekha uv'lekh't'kha vaderekh uv'shakh'b'kha uv'kumekha."

_When you sit at home, and when you walk along the way, and when you lie down and when you rise up_.

"Again with the praying." He brushed away the loose black strands behind his ear coming back to stand in front of her. He thought to himself: How could I break her? ...to bend her fully to my will?

This one was different from the others. She wasn't fearful. She didn't simper or toy with male affections; from his limited observings she loathed physical contact from others, had even punished his other ghouls for touching her. Most learnt very quickly, especially when the bodies started appearing. She was a queer little thing: quiet and demur until her temper flared.

He truly believed that was how she had survived so long, how she had managed to claw her way up the ranks with little repercussions. She hadn't bore any children; which was her original purpose. It was unusual, all of his females had within the first year, in this he could find her only true fault. A rather large one, considering this was why he had purchased her. However, her resourcefulness and determination to not be submissive had been interesting to observe, he had even encouraged it; without her knowledge of course.

The fact that her three siblings had been pestering him over her had discouraged him from considering her for embrace, he certainly would not bow down to anyone's whim but his own. This idea had nagged at him, seeing her now, like this, had made his decision; she was worthy even if he wasn't certain why.

"V'limad'tem otam et b'neikhem l'dabeir bam."

_And you shall teach them to your children, and you shall speak of them._

"You may leave now, Kazimir."

Both men knew it wasn't a request. The younger of the pair glanced down to his sibling almost mournfully. With trembling fingers he tore at the epaulette of his jacket and turned away leaving without uttering another protest.

The sound of ripping fabric made her flinch.

The only other person in the room observed with interest. He knew the significance of the gesture. How could he not after taking them as Childer? It elicited a smile from him. His eldest had always been the most perceptive but he never realised just how much until now.

_How did he know?_

Really, it didn't matter. He had decided now and once he had committed, very rarely would he back down.

"Stand. " The command was obeyed, she didn't need prompting twice.

Her joints protested the movements vehemently before giving way. The impact made her whimper but instead of standing again she began pulling the shards of glass from her knees. She didn't even notice him step closer until he knelt in front of her. When he took her other leg she flinched but remained passive, allowing him to seal the wounds closed with a lick to his finger then pressing it to her skin.

Always alert, she focused on him, wary of another punishment. Instead he took the other leg and repeated the gesture, the wounds sealed themselves but she never tore her gaze from him for an instant; that would be foolish. When he was finished he did not allow her limbs freedom, he held them in place observing her just as intently as she did him.

"Are you afraid of dying?" The question rose up from him before he could repress it down.

"I've made my peace with God," there was no hesitation in her response, but it didn't answer his question.

"We all make our peace with him eventually, do you fear death?"

She never looked him in the eye for longer than an instant; smart Kine.

"No, it would be a reprieve from you."

The blunt honesty amused him, it drew out a smile which only increased his predatory appearance.

Without warning he roughly grabbed her arms and drew her forcefully closer. His grip was bruising, making her joints protest with an audible creak as she tried to fight him off. Her legs were pinned down as he dropped his full weight down upon them but she was quick to give up on using brute strength. Instead she lent up and bit at any skin she could reach, her blunt teeth sunk surprisingly deep into his ice cold flesh. The reaction caught him off guard, but he allowed her to continue. Had he less control on his vitae he would have lost some. Surprisingly she had more Kindred instinct than he realised; she had managed to bite down on a blood vessel without much thought behind the action.

With a feral snarl she tore at the hunk of flesh, raggedly cleaving it from her Master. He laughed when she spat it out, but didn't fail in taking advantage of her exposed neck, plunging his own fangs deeply but still treating her like glass now.

As soon as she felt the bite she tensed, fighting against the kiss, squirming and pressing her palms against his chest to try and force some distance between them. It was futile, his arms only came around her back to press her back against him once more with the effects of the kiss she didn't even notice the pain she should have been experiencing. As more and more blood left her system she eventually stilled, too weak to fight him any longer. Her breathing became shallow and her heartbeat quickened to try and compensate, but in the end it was futile.

When she woke next it was with a start, she felt cold, colder than before but the only thing she could focus upon was the rhythmic beat of a pulse not five paces away.

She was so hungry.


End file.
